Passion Fruit
by The JohhnyMcKilt Productions
Summary: [Oneshot]Johnny is intrigued after Oliver tells him that lovers and mothers and their children have the ability to taste each other. The redhead wants to know how he tastes like and asks the Frenchman if he could help him find out.


A/N: do I need author's notes?! Just read and kill me afterward…enjoy!xD

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade...and this fiction contains...sour lemons...

**Passion Fruit**

_**OneShot**_

"Why is it that sweethearts call each other honey, sugar, pie, sweetie pie, honey sugar, sugarhoneypie, sweetie…and all that crap?" Johnny wondered out of blue as he and Oliver strolled the marketplace in beautiful Paris. "They don't even taste the least bit sweet!"

The young chef tried not to smile, and hence frowned, choosing to ignore his annoying friend as he concentrated on picking the freshest…eggs.

"Alo escargot…" a woman greeted her lover some few feet away from the bladers.

"Alo pâté de foigras." returned her partner and the two made out on the street.

Ocean-deep eyes widened in mild surprise. "Now THAT is a good name" he remarked. "Why can't people name call like that?"

"Because people tend to name their lovers without tasting them yet…" the pro-chef replied absently.

"Intriguing…" said the redhead.

"When I was small, Maman used to call me her _petit chocolat blanc_…or little white chocolate. Now that I'm old I must be…_chocolat noir_ or something…" Oliver continued for added information.

"How do you taste someone?" Johnny asked innocently.

The Frenchman unwillingly hardened and hesitated. "They…er…lovers and mothers & their children have a special relationship between themselves that enables them to taste each other…either out of endearment or lust…"

"Ah…" said the Scot, nodding in understanding.

"Why are we having this conversation again?" the French boy asked.

"I wonder what I taste like…" Johnny answered indirectly.

Oliver smiled to himself. "You need an expert for that, John…" and he paid for his groceries.

The fiery redhead shot him a look of absurdity but it instantly turned into a knowing smile as he caught the Oliver's thought wave.

"I'll be serving the dessert tonight, but not on the table." The younger of the two whispered in the elder's ear and pinched his ass.

--

Robert and Enrique exchanged mildly annoyed looks as they watched Oliver and Johnny play a sort of staring game that only they understood all throughout dinner. Their frowns deepened after the said two had run up the Grand Staircase of the Les Desmond mansion, leaving their plates and chairs askew.

"Did I miss something?" Robert asked Enrique as he tired to eat, having lost appetite as they heard the banging of a headboard in some bedroom upstairs.

"Don't ask me…" Enrique replied. "I'm thinking I missed something here too…"

--

"I won't allow my food to run away…" the green-haired boy whispered solemnly as he tied the redhead's ankles to the bed post tightly with a length of coarse rope.

"And I'll make sure you're really an expert…" Johnny grinned as Oliver came close. The latter loosened the former's scarf and tore it in half with his teeth before blindfolding him as well as tying his wrists behind his back.

The chef smirked. "Shall we begin?" he asked politely.

The Scot stretched himself out eagerly. "Please do, Monsieur…"

Oliver descended with calculated slowness. Carefully, he made his way through the uncharted land of Johnny's head.

The greenette halted suddenly, the tip of his nose teasingly touching the redhead's ear, seemingly evaluating his actions before implementing them.

Only when the fiery-tempered Scot growled with impatience did traces of a smile made itself known on Oliver's lips before he made an experimental lick behind Johnny's ear. The latter's breath hitched in his throat and gratefully escaped in a shuddering sigh.

For a few pleasantly agonizing minutes, the Frenchman feasted on the elder Majestic's moans and sighs as in invoked them with his expert tongue. Gently, he traced the outline of the Scot's hearing organ, memorizing curves despite his blindness, occasionally dipping inside and savoring its taste.

Finally, Oliver moved on to Johnny's lips, giving him a teaser of his unfinished verdict. In a surprise of flavor. The Scot closed his eyes and purred appreciatively through the bond. Having received the result he wanted, the greenette unwillingly pried himself off those delectable lips to resume his task. Johnny was left in a daze. His eyes were still closed and his yearning mouth still slightly open. It's sweet breeze tickled the green-haired boy's chin as he kissed each eyelid reverently, before tasting the other side of his face, tracing a ticklish line down to his neck.

Once there, the food taster took immense pleasure in exploring the fine lines and shallow creases on smooth moist skin. Seemingly hypnotized, the Scot arched back his head as a victim would to a vampire. Oliver smiled at the gesture and lapped at his chosen satisfactory spot before biting into it with gradually increasing degrees of harshness…until the force was enough to draw blood.

Wanting to sample the very life of his lover, the young chef sucked delightedly on this refreshment and exercised great control not to have more that what he needed. Johnny, on the other hand.. was feeling quite lightheaded as the greenette treated his wound.

Awakened, Oliver moved further down with increased velocity, but his expeditions were suspended by an obstruction of fabric. The Frenchman, annoyed, tugged at it with his teeth, signaling the redhead to take his shirt off…as well as pull down his pants.

Johnny obliged with a short chuckle and Oliver leaned back to wait. When the older noble made to also take the younger one's clothes off, the green-haired boy stopped his progress abruptly.

"No cheats. This is my call. I'm not allowing you to interrupt." He said hoarsely, in a raw, wild tainted voice not quite his own.

Its scratchiness etched themselves in his partner's being that it was impossible to resist. Oliver's form followed Johnny's descent as they returned to their escapade.

If there was one word how to describe the Les Desmond heir in bed, it was SLOW.

His tongue was the paintbrush and the fire guardian under his was his canvass. With swift, light strokes he lovingly decorated the smooth caverns under his arms, the pert nubs of adorable flesh sticking out on the flat plane of torso, the shapely length of his arm and lastly each manicured digit on his hand.

He made his way further down, moving nearer and nearer to his main course. He did a beautiful unseen abstract on his easel before stopping over at particular sensitive spot.

The Frenchman dipped his tongue into the Scot's navel and blew on it softly before dipping into it again. The redhead involuntarily jerked, making his lover grin.

Coated in saliva and sweat, Johnny shivered as Oliver let his masterpiece dry by placing short, small kisses as he moved down to the best part of this taste test.

A curled strand of maroon red hair tickled the French boy's nose and he stopped, smiling in excitement.

Sensing he was near the edge of the bed, the delicate teen planting his bare feet by the slop of the mattress to stop himself from falling. And once more relying on feel and smell, he tried to figure out where he was.

The greenette's frisky mouth wove in and out of the forest of what he presumed to be hair. The exotic, intoxicating scent of the environment helped paint the beautiful landscape in his mind. How he wished to take the blindfold off and witness the actual spectacle but he had to stay professional!

The powerful red muscle followed a rise curiously until it came to a halt at a tip. In all innocence, Oliver did not know what it was and further explored its crevices and contours in a hesitant, twitching manner.

Northward, he heard a dulcet moan and immediately, the Frenchman knew what he was toying with. Unfortunately, he dove again and searched for yet another tasty novelty. His nose pushed away offending hairs as they meddled with his search.

Eventually, naked surface beneath the grass-haired boy's lips quivered slightly and he smiled against it, lavishing the satisfaction of finding what he was looking for.

The feeling in Johnny's legs rushed to the sanctuary between them, leaving his limbs like jelly. Short tugs sent ripples coursing through the redhead's being, passing the waves onto his partner's frame, relishing in their bond.

Down below, he felt the sensation shift to the other ball. The incredible French boy knew the contours of this duplicate sack because of its twin and decided to play a little differently.

For the second time that night, he sunk his teeth into Johnny's body.

"O-oliver…" the redhead gasped.

"Not yet…" the younger teen replied ominously, and so he saved his screams for the climax.

At long last, the greenette's most esteemed tongue returned to the Tower, stiff and tall. He made sure its base was stable and lapped at it at first.

"J-just g-get on with it…" the fiery teen gurgled out with difficulty. "D-damn you…"

"Patience, _mon amour_…" Oliver's voice was silky and seemingly dripped with venom. "Patience…" he repeated in a whisper, as if speaking to the steed than the hot person attached to it.

The Scot's heart warmed as his groin did, deciding to place his trust in the expert.

Slowly once more, the greenette worked his way to the top as if he was ascending the stairs of a lighthouse before mockingly delaying his arrival at the top. His tongue gingerly tested the promising quality of the erect structure and when he found it satisfactory, he leaned in for the kill.

Oliver thrust the rare delicacy in as far as it would go and almost choked on it, the muscle reflex became strike one for its sensitive tip. He moved in and out, trying to coax something out of this abnormal bread…some kind of filling? It was yet to be a surprise.

This time, it was Oliver who grew impatient. Yet again, he bit it. Strike two.

Amazingly, Johnny still wouldn't give in. The Frenchman withdrew and said quietly, "Your curiosity is failing…"

The redhead tried to sit up, panting. "This isn't fair for you…" he reasoned.

The other boy shook his head. "In another day you and I shall feed each other. Today, you are my dessert…that's enough for me…"

There was a hard pull in the core of Johnny's length, weakening the resistance that still stood strong as the greenette dove back in and sucked.

"Beg." he ordered through the bond.

"O-oliver…"

Suck. "Not enough."

"Oliver…"

Again he sucked. "Not enough…"

"Oliver!"

He bit, scraped, yanked and pulled.

"OLIVER!!!"

To both their relief, the magical fountain of life burst forth. Its juice was caught and feasted upon by Oliver and Johnny, the former having returned to the latter's lips to share the precious booty.

Celebrations lasted throughout the rest of the night.

"Take off the blindfold…" the French boy requested.

Limp hands gathered every ounce of remaining strength and freed his lover from his bonds.

It was exhilarating to behold the exhausted teen bound to the bed. In his joy he ravished his mouth quickly and pulled away.

Johnny followed the younger Majestic's movements as he, in turn, untied him. He waited quietly for the verdict.

"You taste of passion fruit…" Oliver said with a smile and left the room.

**END**

A/N: sorry about that…my vocabulary was quite limited when I wrote this…till we meet again…enjoy!xD and ciAo…


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